


Dead Things

by pennywife (orphan_account)



Category: Barry (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Fear of Death, Macabre, Other, POV First Person, Short, Smut, Tears, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:27:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23376115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/pennywife
Summary: I love you so much I wish you would kill me.
Relationships: Barry Berkman/Original Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	Dead Things

**Author's Note:**

> Just a weird, first-person POV fic aimed at Barry. Thanks for reading :’)

“I didn’t know you were coming back.” I whisper, but the truth of it is, I didn’t even know if you were still _alive._

But still I waited for you. I looked for you in other men. I mourned all the bruises, the carpet burn on my knees, and the way it felt to be used. I wanted you, always you; no matter how much it hurts when you're here. 

“Needed you,” you breathe down onto the top of my head. I can feel the heat from your body. I can feel every muscle pulled tight under the fabric of your shirt. “Needed to feel you,” you tell me, and I know that it’s a lie. 

I love you.

Your eyes are lighter than I remember. They’d always looked black before this, always staring at the wall behind my head when you’d take me on my back. You look at me through the tears streaming down your face, and I’m too scared to ask why you’re crying. 

I’m not a smart person, but I’m not an idiot either. I know what you do to people. I know you wouldn’t hesitate to do it to me too. Someday you will come to see me again, and I won’t leave with you alive. 

I love you so much it makes my chest hurt. 

The room smells like the wax of the candles burning on the edge of the nightstand, and you still smell like blood. Dead things. Your jacket smells of the forest, of dry earth on the back of your hands. Copper clings to the roof of my mouth, so thick I might choke, and I gag when I kiss you to free myself of the taste. It’s everywhere now, staining your mouth with the knowledge of how it feels to watch someone die. 

I love you so much I wish you would kill me. 

You bend me over on the edge of the bed. The brass frame of the mattress whines under our weight when you flatten your hands down on either side of my chest. 

I wish you would bury my body in the California desert so I never have to love you ever again. 

I’m tighter than I used to be. I can hear it in the way you suck in a breath when you press inside of me, can feel it in the trembling of your knees when you bury yourself all the way. You’re so solid within me, the hardest I think you’ve ever felt, and I try not to wonder just why that is. 

Will you tell my mother I ran away? Tell her I’m still out there, alive, in a place where I can finally see the stars? 

Tell her I never meant for any of this to happen. Tell her I never meant to fall in love with a man who’s going to rip me apart from the inside out. 

I love you. I love that you fuck me like you’ve missed me even though I know you don’t think about me at all. The bed drags; back, and forth, back and forth, and I bury my face in the sheets and I scream. You fuck me through it all the way, dragging it on and stretching it out until I’m wrecked with it. I never come like this. Not with anyone but you. 

“You’re gonna make me come,” you choke, and I can hear how close you are in your voice. 

It throbs so hard it feels like I’m there again too, warm spasms that block out the pain of how much it hurts when it’s in all the way. Your tongue drags lazily over the back of my neck, teeth on my skin, over the arteries that carry the blood to my face, and I think about what it’ll be like when all of this comes to an end. 

I think about telling you how much I miss you through an inch of reinforced glass. I think about how many pieces you’ll cut me into before loading me up in the back of your car. 

You turn me over onto my back, and you kiss me so hard it pulls the air from my lungs. I kiss you like it’s the very last time, because for all I know, Barry, maybe it is. 

“I love you,” you tell me, and I do my best not to cry. 

I tell you I love you too, and even though you know that I mean it, I’m scared to ask what you’d do to me if I didn’t.   
  
  



End file.
